


Sherlock Drabbles

by beargirl1393



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 15:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beargirl1393/pseuds/beargirl1393
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short fics written for the Let's Write Sherlock Challenge #4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Rings & Marriage

**Author's Note:**

> Word says the word count is 1895, so I'm going with that.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock got married with cracker-jack rings when they were 7 yrs old. It wasn’t official, but for their whole lives they took it very seriously.

“Here ‘Lock,” John said shyly, sliding the ring onto his best friend’s finger. It was purple, like his favorite shirt, and it was the same silver color his eyes could be sometimes.

Sherlock looked at it and smiled, before fishing in his own box. He got frustrated after a few minutes and simply upended the box, kneeling and searching through the cracker jacks to find the prize. After a minute he gives a shout, triumphantly holding up a ring. It had a gold band and a yellow stone, perfect for his John.

He slid the ring on John’s slightly chubbier finger, blushing a little when John beamed at him. “Now we’re married.”

“Do we have to kiss?” John asked, remembering all the times he’d seen his parents or Sherlock’s kissing.

Sherlock wrinkled his nose. “Of course not John! Kissing’s gross.”

“Oh good,” John breathed, relieved. “Want to go play on the swings?”

* * *

 

_*30 Years Later*_

“So you two aren’t ever going to get married?” Lestrade asked, looking from one man to the other. They had been together for as long as he’d known them, when Sherlock started solving crimes while John was in the Army, and then when Sherlock disappeared for several months, reappearing with John Watson in tow. The two had always been together. He thought it was odd that they had never wanted to make it official.

John looked at Sherlock before his eyes flicked up to the mantle. Two plastic rings, one silver colored with a purple stone and one gold colored with a yellow stone, lay side by side to the left of the skull. He hadn’t noticed them before, never bothered with them during his visits, but now he couldn’t help but think they were significant.

“We’ve been married for years,” Sherlock drawled, and John could see the little boy digging through his CrackerJack box to give John his ring. “Obviously.”


	2. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe for one of Sherlock's strange social experiments, he and John sit across from each other and take turns showing each other their scars, and telling them how they got them.

“Are you serious?” John asked, looking at his mad flatmate uncertainly.

“It’s either this or Cluedo,” Sherlock replied, shrugging. “My experiments need time before I will get any worthwhile results and there are no interesting cases.”

“Alright,” John sighed, resigned to the insanity that is Sherlock Holmes. He settled more comfortably in his seat, watching as Sherlock perched on his own chair. “Any particular reason for this?”

“Bored,” Sherlock replied, and that was likely all the answer he would give.

“Alright,” John sighed again. “I’ll start?” When Sherlock nodded, John pulled his jumper off over his head and then repeated that with his shirt. He gestured to his shoulder, where the scarring was from the bullet that had nearly killed him.

Sherlock, in turn, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing fine, pale scars on his forearms and scarring from needle marks in his elbow. “Obviously, you can tell where these are from.”

John nodded, leaning forward to trace along the path of one of the crisscrossing marks. “When?”

Sherlock looked towards the fireplace, not making eye contact. “I got clean a few months after meeting Lestrade. I haven’t used since. Cases provided a better high.”

John nodded, accepting that. “And the others? Some of these are not years old Sherlock.”

“When there was a lull between cases, my mind…you know how I am John. I can’t…I needed something to make it _stop,_ and that did. The pain focused my mind, helped me when I didn’t have a case and considered relapsing. I stopped after we began sharing a flat. You were interesting enough that I didn’t feel the need to. When I…left, there were times that there was nothing I could do, needing to wait for someone else to make a move first. It was a distraction.”

John swallowed. “Have you done it since you came back?”

Sherlock shook his head. “Not since we got back together.”

John moved, pulling Sherlock out of his chair and hugging him close. “No more, alright.” He didn’t think he could bear it if he came home and found Sherlock bleeding out on the bathroom floor.

“I don’t need to with you around John,” Sherlock murmured. “You are far more interesting. Obviously.”


	3. Breakfast in Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock attempts to make John breakfast in bed.

John wakes up to a banging noise. Groaning, he rolls over, unsurprised that Sherlock isn’t in bed with him and idly wondering why his mad lover/flat-mate can’t keep his experiments (at least the noisy ones) limited to the times when John _wasn’t_ trying to sleep.

When he hears Sherlock curse, he gives up on sleep and heads for the kitchen, hoping that Sherlock hasn’t damaged it too badly. What he finds surprises him.

Pots, pans, and skillets litter the countertops and the table, replacing the lab equipment that had been there as long as he had been at Baker Street. There was egg on the floor, milk on the counter, and Sherlock had some kind of batter on his cheek, noticeable when he turned to stare, wide eyed, at John.

“You aren’t supposed to be up yet,” he says, not taking his hand out from under the cool water.

“You banging around in here and cursing isn’t good for the flat,” John said, stepping forward to take hold of Sherlock’s hand when he took it out from under the water. He hissed sympathetically when he saw the burn. “What did you do?”

Sherlock didn’t answer, staying silent while John treated the burn, and John had nearly given up on getting an answer when Sherlock muttered, “It’s our anniversary.”

That wasn’t what he’d expected. “What?”

“Today is our anniversary,” Sherlock repeated, slightly louder this time. “I remembered that Father always took Mummy breakfast in bed on their anniversary, having Cook make her favorites, so I thought…”

John cut him off with a kiss, touched that Sherlock would do something like that for him. “Sentiment?”

“Sentiment,” Sherlock replied, a small smile on his lips, “Only for you. Obviously.”


	4. Thunderstorms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The storm that night was the worst that had come about since John had moved in, and Sherlock knew he couldn’t keep it from him any longer. With the windows rattling, and the lights all out, Sherlock pulled out his phone. It read that it was currently half past midnight, but that would bother John more than it did Sherlock. He typed out the text slowly, reading it over in case his shaking fingers had made any mistakes, then hit send.   
> John, are you awake? –SH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt courtesy of johnlock prompts on tumblr. This prompt was posted by thestrals-in-221B

The storm that night was the worst that had come about since John had moved in, and Sherlock knew he couldn’t keep it from him any longer. With the windows rattling, and the lights all out, Sherlock pulled out his phone. It read that it was currently half past midnight, but that would bother John more than it did Sherlock. He typed out the text slowly, reading it over in case his shaking fingers had made any mistakes, then hit send.

_John, are you awake? –SH_

* * *

 

John blinked open his eyes, groaning as his phone dinged. He reached blindly for it, succeeding only in knocking it off his nightstand and making himself more annoyed. Thus, he is not in the mood to play games with his mad flat-mate.

**I am now- JW**

_Can I sleep with you?-SH_

John is almost completely certain that he misread the text, but the wording doesn’t change after three more reads.

**What?-JW**

_Can I sleep in your bed with you tonight? Or my bed, I don’t care which-SH_

‘What the hell?’ is pretty much all that he can think. Sherlock, aloof, untouchable Sherlock, wanted to sleep with him?

**Why?-JW**

Because he’d be damned if he agreed without knowing why. Thunder rattled the window panes and John thought he heard a muffled noise from Sherlock’s room, before the detective texted him back.

* * *

 

_Because I am afraid of thunderstorms John-SH_

There, he’d sent it. Now what would John think of him?

* * *

 

‘Oh,’ John thought, looking at his phone. Several little things he noticed about Sherlock before slotted neatly into place now that Sherlock confided in him. Also, the reason he hadn’t mentioned it before was obvious.

**You know where my room is-JW**

Sherlock’s reply was one word, causing John to smile even as he made room in his bed as he heard footsteps in the hall.

_Obviously-SH_


	5. Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anderson & John have a conversation about monsters

John was sitting at Angelo’s, waiting for Sherlock, when he saw Anderson come in. He groaned, hoping the other man didn’t notice him, since he had been particularly annoying since John & Sherlock announced their relationship and John didn’t feel like dealing with him right now.

Unfortunately, John wasn’t that lucky, and Anderson came over to his table.

“Where’s the freak?” he asked snidely, and John clenched his fists under the table. They were in public, they had to keep this civil.

“At the Yard,” John replied, pleased when his voice came out even. “Greg had a few things he needed to ask about the most recent case he solved.”

Anderson’s sneer grew more pronounced at that. “I don’t know why he keeps calling that _thing_ in on cases. It’s disgusting, the thrill he gets. One of these days he’ll be the reason we’re gathered around a body, because he’s nothing but a monster. It’s a shame that fall really didn’t kill him…”

John cut him off before he could say anything else, because he just got Sherlock back and he’d be damned if he’d let _Anderson_ say that it would be better if he had died.

“Listen,” John said, his voice low and deadly, “If you say another word about Sherlock, to anyone, or if you look at him, hell, if you even _think_ something insulting about him, I will go to your wife and tell her about all the times Sally comes to your house and _scrubs your floors._ ”

The other man pales, before he tries for bravado. “You wouldn’t.”

John smiles coldly, and Anderson takes a step back. “Try me,” he hissed, and Anderson stood, indecisive, a moment more before he hurried off back to his table where his wife was waiting for him.

Sherlock came in a few minutes later, sliding into his seat across from John with a grace John always envied. “Sorry I’m late,” Sherlock said, smiling as he took in John’s beaming grin. “Did you manage to entertain yourself?”

John thought about the look on Anderson’s face and the satisfaction he got from silencing on of Sherlock’s main tormentors. “Yeah, I did.” He’d have to tell Sherlock, though the other man would figure it out eventually.

Sherlock took in the satisfaction radiating from his partner, and decided not to ask. John would tell him eventually, and it would likely be worth the wait. Anything involving John always was. Obviously.


	6. Brotherly Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a time when Sherlock followed Mycroft around like a shadow, not giving his brother a moment of peace, believing Mycroft was the best thing in the world.   
> Mycroft misses it dearly.

There was a time when Sherlock followed Mycroft around like a shadow, not giving his brother a moment of peace, believing Mycroft was the best thing in the world.

Mycroft misses it dearly.

He hadn’t thought he would, barely considered it, when he was eleven and preparing to leave for school and Sherlock was sitting on his bed, babbling on about some experiment or the other and his latest discoveries about pirates. He’d told his brother to get lost, to quit bothering him.

He hadn’t meant forever, although that was how Sherlock interpreted it. Each letter he wrote to his little brother while he was away at school was never answered, and when he returned to the Manor for the holidays, Sherlock was never around.

He sought him out, of course, trying to find his little shadow.

He found him curled up on his bed in his room. Sherlock ignored him, not saying one word as he tried to reconnect with his little brother.

Later, he would prefer the silence to the vitriol that would fall from his baby brother’s tongue as he insulted Mycroft.

He never knew Sherlock still loved him, until he saw Sherlock’s letters. Written but never sent. His brother still loved him.

Obviously.


End file.
